A/N This takes place after the movie, and is a slightly different look at Chihiro and Kohaku after their adventures in Spirited Away. Thanks so much to DAzebras for beta'ing this for me. You were an amazing help on making this read-worthy, and you totally get the biggest kudos ever.

Our daughter has changed, and I don't know when it happened.

Over the past few months, our family has had to cope with the damned economy, my husband losing his job, and, finally, the decision to uproot all of us from our lives and move hours from the city when we found somewhere that would hire him.

My husband and I had little time or energy left over for Chihiro.

I have to be truthful, though, because even after, when we were unpacked and adjusting, we still had little time for her.

Because we also had the endless arguments, questions, and doubts surrounding our three day disappearance without a moment's memory between us to show for it.

Long after the shouts and brain-wracking and tears, my husband and I came to the unspoken agreement that we wouldn't speak about it, ever again. How many times can you confront something that couldn't possibly have happened? Better to pretend it didn't, after all.

Eventually, I realized that Chihiro had never once been surprised that we had lost three days of our lives, and she had never said that she didn't remember where we had been. I tried not to think about it; I couldn't bring myself to question her.

Regardless of when it happened, our daughter was different. She had no complaints about her new life, and a quiet confidence replaced her old meekness. And our daughter – our shy, awkward daughter – returned from school just three weeks in with a boy, of all creatures.

The two were inseparable. He walked her to school in the morning and home at night. They disappeared after school until dinner and then after dinner until bedtime. He always arrived out of the fields surrounding our house at exactly the right time; just as she finished washing the last dish, or before I opened the door to look for them as the sun set behind the horizon. We knew nothing about him except his name, had never met his family, and I, at least, doubted that he went to Chihiro's school at all.

My husband tried to intimidate him into giving some answers in the front room. The boy looked him in the eye and solemnly answered each question with another question. As my husband grew flustered, Chihiro flew down the stairs, grabbed her boy by the hand, and rocketed out the door, leaving my husband grumbling in their wake. It was only days later that I finally realized that he had answered none of our questions.

I didn't worry.

Some nights, I had terrible dreams where Chihiro was screaming for me, but I couldn't find her, couldn't even rouse myself to look for her. I would wake gasping and shaking, listening to my husband snore and the wind whistle outside.

One of these dreams occurred the night before Chihiro's half-holiday. I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake my still-sleeping husband, and crept down the cold wooden staircase to the kitchen in the dim light of early morning. Still trembling, I walked into my kitchen to find Kohaku sitting at the table, waiting for Chihiro to finish dressing upstairs. He nodded at my greeting and regarded me, his back ram-rod straight and his hands folded in his lap. I had turned away from towards the counter, to hide the fact that my hands still shook, and was putting away the already-cleaned breakfast dishes Chihiro had left out to dry when he spoke.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice its usual serious tone. "I won't let anything happen to Chihiro. I'll always be there to protect her, now."

I believed him.

In the end, I couldn't know when, or how, or where it was my daughter changed from a child into a young woman confident enough to face the world. I did know, however, that she had a solemn young protector at her side, and that was enough. I couldn't think of one thing that they couldn't face, between the two of them.

And if, sometimes, I think I see Chihiro disappear into the distance on the back of a dragon? Well, the mind plays tricks on all of us. We just don't talk about it.

The End.